Traces
by Lynse
Summary: The Doctor's left plenty of traces behind over the years, and Lucas is determined to try to piece together what he can of the Time Lord by contacting a few of the people who have met the tenth incarnation of the Doctor. Follows Distorted.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I can't, in good conscience, call this a sequel when it's not even a real story of its own right, but it is a little follow up of the events of _Distorted_, written by request and detailing a bit of Lucas's search for answers. Standard disclaimers apply.

* * *

><p>Lucas watched the Easter egg on the DVD again, frowning. It hadn't taken much to find it; it had taken far longer for Ben to requisition him a player for the disk in the first place. But even though he'd met the man in the hidden feature, even though he knew that this was what he was meant to find, he didn't think he had enough of the pieces yet.<p>

The Doctor had told him to search for the answers on his own, to uncover the traces he'd left behind. Lucas had done a bit of that even before he'd found the clue the Doctor had left for him. He'd hacked into UNIT again and read through some old files. He'd found names of past associates with the Doctor, people who had known him back about fifty years ago. Back when he'd been a different man, quite literally.

It had taken a bit of searching, but Lucas had uncovered a couple of pictures.

He was fairly certain his grandfather had had better dress sense than that, but at least the Doctor hadn't been around to hear him burst into laughter when he found the pictures in the first place.

Lucas smirked at the memory, then paused the DVD, freezing the frame when it featured the Doctor and a woman called Martha. He was fairly certain he knew who she was. He'd found a Dr. Martha Jones in the UNIT database when he'd searched for associations with the Doctor. Her profile picture matched the woman in the Easter egg. He hadn't found much about her. She'd married someone named Mickey Smith but still used her maiden name in business, it seemed. He'd found quite a few references to missions completed by Smith and Jones but hadn't tried breaking into any of them yet. His efforts had been focussed on trying to compose a contact list.

That was proving to be harder than hacking into UNIT in the first place. He'd found names, yes. Martha Jones and Mickey Smith were just the more recent ones, even though recent meant about ten years ago. Lucas wasn't convinced, personally, that Martha and Mickey hadn't left UNIT to do something on their own. He'd found a few references with them and a certain Captain Jack Harkness, but every time he tried following that connection, he would run into more blocks, and these ones—put up by some place called Torchwood—had been harder to get through. He'd gotten a few things from the first time he'd managed it, but he must've tripped something somewhere along the line because he'd been thrown out and his computer had been blocked every time since. He knew that if he spent enough time at it, he could get around it, but he had a lot of leads to follow, so he figured he might as well track the easy ones first.

Besides, when he'd tried looking up that Captain Harkness in the military records, he'd gotten multiple hits. There were accounts dating before World War I, for heaven's sake, with consistent hits on the name since the mid 1800s, and the grainy WWI picture of the man Lucas _had_ found looked suspiciously similar to the one he'd seen in the Torchwood database before he'd been blocked from that. Granted, seeing as he'd found _two_ pictures of the so-called Captain Jack Harkness who had signed on in World War II, with the one man looking like the same one in all the other pictures, Lucas had little doubt that this man had been in contact with the Doctor, too.

Unfortunately, he clearly wasn't in contact with many other people, because he didn't have an address that Lucas could find anywhere. Just like Martha and Mickey, this guy had managed to get well and truly lost. He, like the other two, was dutifully listed in the global database, but the listed address didn't lead him to anything more than an empty lot, this time somewhere in Cardiff instead of London.

Lucas had the distinct feeling that the only reason no one had noticed is because these people were very good at what they did, not to mention their obvious skill with the manipulation of people and technology.

Perhaps the Doctor had thought he'd been handing him an easy clue to follow, but evidently the Doctor didn't keep track of his past companions as closely as he thought if he figured Lucas wouldn't have a hard time getting in touch with some of them.

Lucas started the video again, watching the rest of the one-sided conversation. He'd seen the grainy video many times now, but he kept hoping he'd notice something he'd missed before, something small, something that would give him a clue. There had to be something, after all, something more than just a name. Surely there was a way to find someone else besides this Martha if she couldn't be found. After all, the Doctor was talking to someone. Lucas just didn't know who.

"_I've got a copy of the finished transcript_," the Doctor on the video declared. "_It's on my autocue_."

Of course, that might be one way to find out. It was an old DVD—the fact that it was a DVD in the first place _made_ it old—but surely there would be something on the Internex about this particular Easter egg, and if the Doctor only had a _copy_ of the finished transcript, someone else had the original.

Whether or not said someone would actually make any mention of it online was another matter, but Lucas figured he might get lucky. If nothing else, he might be able to contact someone who might know something. Even if he couldn't find a copy of the transcript himself, there was probably enough discussion about this particular Easter egg on the Internex to keep him busy looking for clues to prove that someone on there actually knew something and wasn't just speculating. Besides, it hadn't been that hard for him to find, and if he'd found it and hadn't met the Doctor, he'd probably be doing some speculating of his own, so he had no doubt that someone else had done the same. Probably not recently, but at some point, surely, there had to be something.

He spent the next hour or so screening through various forums. It hadn't taken him long to find out some things—such as the fact that this particular Easter egg featuring the Doctor appeared on seventeen seemingly unrelated DVDs, or the fact that the manufacturers claimed they had no idea he was even on there in the first place—but he was having a bit more trouble coming up with anything that he was certain was solid evidence. There was speculation, as he'd expected, ranging from political statements hidden in the Doctor's words to how the Easter egg had appeared on the DVDs to begin with, but nothing that gave him any good leads.

A knock at the cabin door finally penetrated his thoughts, and Lucas looked up as Ben Krieg stuck his head in the door. "Having any luck?" the supply officer asked.

"Not yet," Lucas admitted. "This isn't turning out to be as much of a clue as I'd hoped."

"Maybe you're looking too hard," Krieg said. "You could take a break, you know."

Lucas made a face. "And, what, admit to the captain that I'm free to crawl into the access tunnels to dust? I don't want to find myself volunteered for that again."

"At least Bridger's letting you use this as an excuse," Krieg pointed out. "None of us are as lucky."

"No, but none of you spent as long as I did in the first week crawling through every nook and cranny in _seaQuest_," Lucas returned. They had, on the Doctor's orders, cleaned up everything they could, but Dr. Westphalen had suggested that they keep checking some of the more unpleasant places in case they'd missed anything the first time around. After their last experience, she'd said, it was better to be safe than sorry. They would have noticed if they'd missed anything that was out in the open, but they could have easily missed something that was in dim, cramped quarters, and they had to get everything they could. She'd promised, and Lucas knew as well as anyone that Kristin Westphalen kept her promises.

"True enough," Krieg agreed, though he'd done his fair share of cleaning himself. The captain hadn't been too impressed to hear about his illicit trip into the past, though Krieg had been relieved when he'd realized that, if Bridger had learned the details from the Doctor, he hadn't disclosed them. Even so, he'd found himself with a heavier cleaning schedule than he might have expected otherwise, and he'd taken his unspoken punishment without complaint. Well, without complaint to the captain, at least. Lucas had heard his fair share of good natured complaining.

Krieg leaned over to get a better look at the computer screen, skimming through the various forum entries on his own. Lucas left him to it, figuring he might as well take the brief break Krieg had come to insist he take. After a few moments, Krieg asked, "Is there any mention in that DVD extra of the Doctor as the Doctor?"

Lucas frowned. "No. Why?"

Krieg pointed to one entry. "This one mentions 'the Doctor'."

Lucas came to get a closer look at it, reading the entry over a few times. Sure enough, it was a speculation about the Doctor—which meant, quite likely, that it wasn't a speculation at all. In less than a minute, Lucas began tracking the post, and within five minutes, he had a name. "Lawrence Nightingale," he said, grinning. He was finally getting somewhere. Checking over the responses to Lawrence's post, he spotted another one that appeared to be posted by someone who knew more than everyone else, and, very quickly, he found another name to search: Luke Smith.

"Any relation to that Mickey and Martha, do you think?" Krieg asked. Lucas had been filling him in on all his leads.

"Hard to say. Smith isn't exactly an uncommon name," Lucas said. "There was even another one, a Sarah Jane Smith, that was mentioned in the UNIT files. She was one of the ones who witnessed the giant robot fiasco the Doctor mentioned." He couldn't help but smile; things finally looked like they were coming together.

"See?" Krieg said, smiling himself. "If you take a break and go back to it, sometimes things start to work out. I'll check on you later, Lucas. Remember to eat sometime, all right?"

"Yeah, sure. Thanks." But food, of course, wasn't at the top of Lucas's list at the moment. He was so close, now, to at least one good lead, and another possible one. He couldn't stop when he was this close. He'd have plenty of time to eat later.

After a bit of searching, he found a way to send a message to both Luke Smith and Lawrence Nightingale. He'd ended up using email, so he wouldn't get an instant response, but it had been the best he could find. He had a good feeling about this. He was sure he'd get some sort of response. It would mean that all his searching had paid off. He hadn't run into a wall like he had looking up Martha Jones or any of the other names he'd gotten through UNIT. This time, he had a very good chance of getting a response, and a positive at that. He was sure that, this time, he had the right pieces.

* * *

><p>"Sally," Larry called, "have you been looking up information on the Doctor?"<p>

Sally Nightingale, née Sparrow, looked up from the papers in front of her and shook her head. "Heavens, no," she said. "That was ten years ago. I would think things are finished by now, wouldn't you?"

It had been twelve years ago, actually, that Larry had met Sally. It had been twelve years ago when his sister, Kathy, had been taken by the mysterious Weeping Angels. It had been twelve years ago that Sally had told him that Kathy had had to go away for bit, and that she loved him, and twelve years ago that Sally had taken him to his sister's grave. His sister, who had nearly died before she'd been born.

But it had only been eleven years since they'd last seen the Doctor, since Sally had finally agreed to set the entire thing aside. It had been eleven years since Sally had given the Doctor the transcript of the conversation they'd had the year before, thirty-eight years apart. It had been eleven years since the whole mess of the Weeping Angels had been over as surely as it would ever be over for them.

He'd only gone on the egg forums a couple times since Sally had had her conversation with the Doctor, twelve years ago. He had never had the heart to put up the entire transcript, not after he'd faced the Weeping Angels themselves. Besides, Sally had asked him not to. She hadn't wanted him to do anything with the transcript until she'd figured out how the Doctor had gotten it in the first place. Still, he may not remember now what he'd posted, but he did remember getting a few responses to it, but that had been over ten years ago. That someone had tracked one of his posts down and was asking about it made him wonder. DVDs weren't as popular as they used to be. He and Sally ought to know that better than anyone; they were still running an antiquarian books and rare DVDs store together.

"That's what I'd thought," Larry said, reading over the message. His eye caught on the name at the bottom of the page. Lucas Wolenczak. Wolenczak. There was some famous scientist that was a Wolenczak, wasn't there? One of the ones who was working on an underwater power plant or something? Larry put the question to Sally.

"God, Larry, don't you ever read the news?" Sally asked. "Dr. Lawrence Wolenczak. He's head of the World Power plant, remember?"

He didn't remember, but then again, Sally always had had a more level head than he. He'd always been quite happy doing what he was doing right now; Sally was the one who, with his sister, had had joking aspirations of being a detective. She needed all her wits about her to deal with that sort of thing. That's not to say that sometimes she didn't lose her head—the entire incident with the Doctor had really begun to worry him, and he had been quite glad when they'd run into him so that she could finally move on—but usually she had her head screwed on more tightly than he did.

"Why ask, anyway? What are you on about?" Sally got up from her desk and walked over to see what he was looking at.

"I got an email from a Lucas Wolenczak. I thought he might be some sort of relation. But, Sally, he was asking about the Doctor."

"What?" Sally leaned over to read the message, frowning. "He found the Easter egg. But how'd he know to contact us?"

"Apparently, I'd mentioned the Doctor on one of the forums," Larry admitted. "This Lucas bloke met him recently. He must have been looking for clues or something." He glanced up at Sally. "Like you were."

"Yes, well, he seems to have had a bit more luck than I did," Sally commented. She read the message again, then said, "Tell him."

"Tell him what?" Larry asked.

"Our story," Sally replied. "Tell him the other half of the conversation. We've still got a copy ourselves, the photocopy I'd made in case something happened to the original. He's asking what we know about the Doctor, isn't he? Well, tell him. I know how frustrating it is to search for answers and not find them."

"Sally, we don't even know who he is."

"He told you who he is. Lucas Wolenczak. He's just someone else like us, Larry, someone else who got caught up in something he doesn't fully understand. If he's trying to understand it and is searching this hard for answers, we shouldn't ignore him. Not when he found us, not when he's right. If we tell him our story, it might not help him find answers, but it might help him accept it all. It might help him find some of the pieces that are already in front of him." Sally put a hand on Larry's shoulder. "You know how hard it was for me, but I got lucky. I got the piece that I was missing. I don't know if this Lucas has. It's harder to move on when you don't know the answers."

"I don't even know how he found the Easter egg in the first place," Larry muttered, though he did agree with Sally. He'd been willing to accept not getting answers, but she hadn't. She'd been told she'd understand one day, and she was bound and determined to make sure that day came, and come it did, thirty-nine years after everything started….

"Then ask him," Sally said. "Tell him our story, and ask his in return. It's only fair, and frankly I wouldn't mind knowing what someone else went through."

She wanted to know, Larry realized, whether things had turned out better for Lucas than they had for them. He'd lost his sister, and Sally had lost her best friend, and she'd also lost a new friend on the very same day she'd met him. They'd been stolen away by the Weeping Angels, and time had taken its toll, and they had died.

They had died, and Sally and Larry had only been able to grieve together. No one else understood. No one else knew how close they'd come to the same fate themselves. For all they knew, no one else, save the Doctor and his friend Martha, even knew about the Weeping Angels, the Lonely Assassins, the quantum-locked creatures from another world who could kill you in a blink of an eye. No one else knew the truth behind the mystery of Wester Drumlins, which was once again just a lonely old house, abandoned and left to the ravages of time. No one else knew the danger of the statues that stood in the basement, locked in stone by the sight of their own gazes. No one else knew why the disappearances, which had been consistent over so many years, had finally stopped.

No one else had understood, either, why Sally had once had aspirations of buying the house. It had been, she'd thought, the best way to monitor it, to make sure everyone else was safe. Larry had reminded her that that wouldn't have done much good anyway, unless they'd planned on living there, because people like her would still ignore the signs warning people away and break in anyway. They were better off just checking on it and making sure no one tried anything as foolish as moving the statues of the angels that stood in the basement, frozen in time.

Besides, he didn't want to live in Scooby Doo's house.

Larry hit the reply button, and then he started to type out a response to Lucas's message, telling him their story and asking about his.

"I'll get the transcript," Sally said. Though she'd given the Doctor the original transcript and all the pictures and letters and everything else she'd collected, she'd kept copies for herself. Memories, she'd said when Larry had asked. She wasn't ready to let go of the memories.

After she'd met the Doctor and had given him the folder she'd made, her collection of all she knew, she'd been able to move on, but she'd refused to forget.

People had died. They wouldn't ever forget that. They couldn't.

But, it didn't mean they had to be the only ones to remember, either. Anyone who had met the Doctor would surely believe their story. They didn't have to keep it to themselves. They had no reason to. Sally was right. Lucas Wolenczak had asked them what they knew about the Doctor and what they knew about the Easter egg. Well, they would tell him, and then he, too, would know, and he, too, could remember. He wouldn't remember their story as well as they did, of course, but he'd remember his own better, and he'd know the value of both their stories, and he'd know the truth.

And the truth, however horrifying it might be, could very well save his life, if the Weeping Angels were ever moved, for whatever reason, and were freed. If something happened to him and Sally, someone else would know. Someone else would understand the true message of the Easter egg, and they would know the value of not blinking.

Larry could only hope this Lucas would never have to face the same terror he had, but maybe with the knowledge of their story, he wouldn't need to. If he _was_ related to that scientist who was working on harnessing the power of Earth's oceans, he might have enough connections to pull enough strings to protect people from the secrets Wester Drumlins held. This Lucas Wolenczak might be able to do what he and Sally couldn't. He might be able to make sure those Weeping Angels stayed exactly where they were, forever.

It was worth asking. Nothing was ever lost by asking. Lucas had taken a chance, and he'd asked. It had paid off for him. It might just pay off for them, give them an added feeling of comfort, take the edge off the worry that lurked in the back of their minds, the worry that history might repeat itself and that what had happened to them could happen to someone else.

"Here you are," Sally said, returning with the transcript. She put it on the desk beside him. "Tell me when you get a response from him. I want to know his story."

"You and me both," Larry agreed, and then he started typing out the transcript.


	2. Chapter 2

"You can come up for air every once in a while, you know."

Lucas jumped, then smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Captain." He should have known that pouring over the reply he'd gotten from Sally and Larry would have earned him one comment or another, considering everyone else was visiting over their latest meal of synthesized meat, hydroponic vegetables, and what he thought of affectionately as the modern version of hardtack, except that this was infused with vitamins. But the story he had in front of him, and the transcript, was fascinating. How could he _not_ study it?

"I think Darwin's starting to miss you," Bridger said. "When was the last time you went to the moon pool?"

"It's been a few days," Lucas confessed. At the captain's look, he admitted, "Well, all right, maybe a little bit more than a few days, but I've been working this out, and you wouldn't believe how everything managed to fit together. They're the ones who'd had the DVD the Doctor gave me. He got it from them. They even…. Sally was the one who gave the Doctor the transcript, the one that he was reading from on the Easter egg, and, look, they sent me a copy, and it fits _exactly_, and—"

Bridger, who had been smiling, now chuckled. "I'm sure it does. But you might find that the rest of the pieces to the puzzle fit together better after you leave it for a day or two."

Lucas knew he had to concede the captain's point and did so. Krieg had given him the same advice, and it had held true last time. Besides, he knew he wouldn't get many more answers, if any, from the story of the Weeping Angels now. He'd been marvelling at it and searching it again while he was waiting for another response. He'd hoped he would have gotten one by now from this Luke Smith. He hadn't thought he'd made a wrong connection, but perhaps he had.

Still, he wasn't so involved in his search that he'd missed the captain's real point, either. "I suppose I haven't been up on the bridge in a while, either."

"It's a good learning experience," Bridger reminded him, "and I, at least, miss having you drop by. Sometimes we can use another set of sharp eyes." He glanced down at the papers in front of Lucas, then said, "You could perhaps use a fresh set of eyes on this yourself." He paused, then added, "I'm sure Commander Ford wouldn't mind if I extended my absence from the bridge for another fifteen minutes or so."

Lucas smiled. "Thanks, Captain." He did appreciate the offer. He knew the captain had had enough on his hands cleaning up the Doctor's mess and dealing with the UEO. That was one reason he'd been trying to stay out of the way; he hadn't wanted to interrupt anything. Well, he also hadn't wanted to get extra duty cleaning up, either, but there was little danger of that now. It had been over a week, and all traces of sand that they could find had been cleaned up and scattered.

It took Lucas perhaps ten minutes, once Bridger was in his quarters, to show him all his findings. The only one he'd really been keeping up to date had been Krieg, since Ben had made a point of frequently stopping in and asking how things were going. Lucas now wondered whether Captain Bridger or Dr. Westphalen had asked him to do so, though Lucas had no doubt that Krieg was simply curious and would have dropped by anyway. After all, Krieg had been the only one to get an actual trip in the Doctor's ship, and he had been the only other one besides Lucas to even see its interior.

Of course, Ben Krieg had been on the N'zyritian ship as well, along with others in the crew, though not all had intended to go aboard, so he had the best idea of them all as to how the Doctor's ship compared to anything else.

From what Lucas could gather, though, it didn't compare. At all. If he'd learned anything from his quick look inside of it, it was that there was definitely truth in the old saying not to judge a book by its cover. The Doctor's ship, incongruously disguised as nothing more than an old, if not entirely inconspicuous, police box, had held far more secrets within its doors than Lucas had managed to glimpse. And if those secrets that he _had_ seen were anything to go by, well, the rest would be certainly astounding.

"I see you gave a rather detailed reply to your new friends," Bridger commented, reading over Lucas's response to Sally and Larry. "You do realize that I didn't tell the UEO half of this, don't you?"

"Don't worry, Captain," Lucas said. "It's not going to sound like more than a story to anyone else. Besides, I didn't include anything that's classified."

"I wouldn't have expected any less," Bridger replied. He looked up at Lucas. "No response from the other one you sent a message to?"

"Not yet," Lucas admitted. He was about to continue but was interrupted by the sound of an incoming message. O'Neill appeared on the computer screen, tapping into the internal video link set up on _seaQuest_.

"Lucas," he said, "you've got an unauthorized incoming call."

Bridger was frowning. "From where?" he asked, sounding bewildered.

"I'm not sure, Captain. I can't trace it, but I can block it if I deflect the signal."

Bridger glanced at Lucas, then said, "No, put it through, Lieutenant, but monitor the call."

"Will do, Captain."

Bridger stepped back, and Lucas stood in front of the computer as O'Neill patched the call through. Facing Lucas, from what looked like an attic room, was a young man clutching a piece of paper. An older woman was visible sitting on the steps behind him, looking on with an expression that rather matched the captain's—somewhat sceptical, but mostly curious, though guarded.

"Lucas Wolenczak?" the man asked.

Lucas nodded warily. "Who wants to know?"

The man smiled. "Oh, brilliant. I'm Luke Smith." He gestured behind him, and the woman stepped up to join him. "This is my mother, Sarah Jane."

"So you are related," Lucas said, grinning.

"In a manner of speaking," Sarah Jane replied, smiling herself. "In all the ways that count, we are. I am rather curious that you've realized that, but I suspect I'll find out how soon enough. Luke here tells me you encountered the Doctor?"

"In a manner of speaking," Bridger replied. He nodded to them. "Nathan Bridger, captain of the _seaQuest_."

"The Doctor dropped in on us," Lucas explained, and then went on to tell the rest of their story.

Sarah Jane was the first one to speak. "Let me guess, the Doctor was wearing a pinstriped suit? Blue or brown?"

Lucas grinned. "Brown," he confirmed. "You've met that one, then?"

Sarah Jane looked surprised. "You know about regeneration?"

"The Doctor told me," Lucas said.

Sarah Jane laughed. "Oh, of course, he'll tell you, but he wouldn't find the time to tell me, would he? I daresay none of his companions found out as easily as you did. What else do you know?"

"I read some of UNIT's files," Lucas explained, "but I couldn't find any of you when I looked, even though there were dozens of names. It was just luck that Luke had commented on a post by Larry Nightingale on a forum."

"That wasn't luck," Luke corrected. "I was doing the same thing you were. Mum told me loads of things about the Doctor, but I wanted to see if I could figure out what he'd been doing in the years since. I found the Easter egg after I'd happened across that reference to the Doctor, and then Mum and I got the story out of Martha."

"Martha Jones?" Lucas asked.

Luke nodded. "We kept in touch with Martha and Mickey and a few other people from the Doctor's past, and Mum's been compiling a list of possible companions. They're all over, you know. There's even one in Australia."

"I'm afraid all I have are names," Sarah Jane said, perhaps seeing Lucas open his mouth, "and I'm not certain whether I've the right ones, but I can give you the list, if you like."

"I'm sure he would," Bridger interjected with a smile. "But if you don't mind my asking, Ms. Smith, how is it that we can't trace your call, and how did you manage to find Lucas in the first place?"

Luke broke into a wide grin, and he was the one who answered. "We have Mr. Smith to thank for that. He's the computer. If you've read the UNIT files, you may have come across mention of Mum's work?"

"You're a journalist, aren't you?" Lucas asked.

"Officially, yes," Sarah Jane replied, "but I only ever published my dullest stories."

"Mum investigates things," Luke explained. "She still does, and she got me and my friends in on it when we were still in school. Half the things you can see behind us are alien technology. Not even Mr. Smith is native to Earth. We've stopped loads of invasions, and helped plenty of other aliens to get back home." He smiled again, this time self-consciously. "None of us have a real job that's half as interesting as what we do when we're moonlighting."

"I'm sure," Bridger agreed, "but I'm afraid I haven't been able to say the same, and I'm not sure whether I'd like to. I'll let Lucas fill you in on the details, shall I? I'd better get back to the bridge."

"Good luck, Captain," Sarah Jane said, a hint of a smile on her face. "We all know how difficult it can be to get back on course after a meeting with the Doctor."

Lucas grinned himself as Bridger smiled and shook his head before taking his leave. Luke took charge of the conversation again, asking what Lucas had turned up in his search, with each side sharing stories. Lucas got some answers and Sarah Jane's list of names, but it didn't take him long to realize that even someone who knew the Doctor as well as his former companion and her son did didn't have all the answers, either.

"He doesn't always give them," Sarah Jane explained, evidently not missing Lucas's obvious disappointment. "Sometimes he's quite happy to let people make their own assumptions or to search out their own answers, as you're doing."

"And you're pretty good at it," Luke said. "I had Mum's help, and you've already found a handful of people on your own."

"Yeah, but the Doctor left me a clue to get me started," Lucas pointed out.

"And you were clever enough, not to mention stubborn enough, to find it and follow it," Sarah Jane reminded him. "Believe me, the Doctor would never have given it to you if he hadn't thought you'd pursue it and turn up some of the answers you were looking for." Sarah Jane laughed. "You remind me of Luke when he was growing up. Always full of questions." She glanced at her son, then added, "Still is most of the time, I'd say."

"Mum," Luke admonished, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Oh, there's no shame in it," Sarah Jane said. "You never learn anything if you don't ask any questions. I've built my life around asking questions and making sure I found out the true answers. Where would I be if I let myself believe what everyone else did? Where would I be if I never searched for the whole truth?"

She'd probably be in quite a different place, Lucas figured, seeing as she'd told him not ten minutes before that she'd been searching out a story when she'd met the Doctor in the first place. She may have been naturally nosy, with an eye for stories and more curiosity than a cat, but Lucas didn't have to look far to see that the Doctor had certainly influenced her life. The evidence of it was visible in the room behind the two Smiths.

Lucas somehow had a feeling that this Sarah Jane Smith had been just as influential on the Doctor's life, even if her influence wasn't seen as easily.

Their conversation lasted a while longer, and then Sarah Jane's phone rang and it turned out that an old friend, a Harry Sullivan, was in town and wanting a visit, so Lucas thanked them for their time and the list of names. Luke elicited a promise from Lucas to keep in touch and tell him what he uncovered, then bid Lucas the best of luck and ended the call. Lucas, for his part, looked over the list of names again, noting that Harry Sullivan was on it and wondering if he'd be able to add anything else.

It all depended, Sarah Jane had said, on which incarnation of the Doctor he was set on researching. Luke had agreed with that, saying that it was easier to fit together pieces in one particular area rather than tackling the whole puzzle at once. There were too many missing for that approach, he'd said.

Sarah Jane had, at Lucas's request, pointed out which names on the list were of people who had associated with this incarnation of the Doctor. Besides hers and her son's, and their friends Clyde and Rani, there was Martha Jones and Mickey Smith, as Lucas had expected. The names of Rose and Jackie Tyler were included, but Sarah Jane had informed Lucas that he wouldn't be able to find them. Sally and Larry were included after Luke had tracked them down, though Sarah Jane had said that, to her knowledge, they had never travelled with the Doctor and likely didn't know him beyond the story of the Easter egg. Captain Jack Harkness's name made another appearance. Then, there was Donna Noble, and another note that she shouldn't be contacted.

Neither Sarah Jane nor Luke had explained why, and Lucas couldn't help but wonder. He wished he'd looked at the list earlier so that he could ask. He supposed he could leave them a message. He could ask what had happened to the Tylers then, too. Except, the story had to be different. They _couldn't_ be contacted. Donna Noble _shouldn't_ be contacted.

Speaking of contacting people, though, there was a number beside Martha's name. It was a phone number, not a vid link number, but he could still contact her through his computer.

After the fifth ring, Lucas was fairly certain that he was going to be leaving a message, but then he heard a click and a harried, "Hello?"

"Hello?" Lucas called, unsure of whether she could hear him clearly. From the sounds of things, she was outside; the wind was blowing into the phone line. That was the trouble with the old phones. The video phones didn't have that problem. Better speakers and all that. "Is this Martha Jones? Er, Smith?"

There was a pause, then, "Yes. Who is this?"

"Lucas Wolenczak. I, um, sort of ran into the Doctor and was hoping you could answer a few questions for me."

"This isn't the best time," Martha said. "Look, I'll try to help you, but I can't make any guarantees with the Doctor."

A rather loud sound, one which sounded suspiciously like an explosion, penetrated through the background noise of the wind. "Tell you what," Martha suggested, "if you give me your contact info, I'll get back to you once I've sorted this mess out, all right?"

Lucas, figuring he was better off sticking to written messages, gave Martha the appropriate information, including the sort of information he was after, and wished her luck. She laughed, promised she'd get back to him, and then the line went dead. Lucas, figuring he better take the captain's subtle advice, headed to the moon pool to see Darwin before going to the bridge. Waiting was easier if he had a few distractions, and to be honest, he was missing Darwin and the rest of the crew more than he'd realized.

Lucas ended up losing track of time. He played with Darwin first, going so far as to jump into the moon pool to swim with him at the dolphin's request. "Lucas play?" Darwin had asked, and when Lucas had said he would, Darwin had declared, "Lucas swim with Darwin." Lucas hadn't had the heart to decline.

By the time Lucas finally made it to the bridge, he was only slightly damp. But he was welcomed with open arms and joking comments about it being a long time since anyone had seen him. _SeaQuest_ was en route to the Falkland Plateau, though it would take her a while to get there with the stops they had planned. Dr. Westphalen wanted to take some soil samples from different points in the South Atlantic Ocean, and she'd suggested various sampling points. She intended to check the soil composition, track how it had changed since the last study, and propose reasons for that change.

They were roughly ten minutes into the Rio Grande Rise, another of the sampling points, when they received the call from the Amazonian Confederation via the UEO about a submarine which was suspected to be smuggling emeralds. The Santos Plateau wasn't far from their current position. Unfortunately, the captain though it was too dangerous for him to remain on the bridge, so Lucas was sent back to his quarters as _seaQuest _went to meet this latest adversary. It was only then that he remembered his earlier call to Martha. He checked his messages and was pleased to see that she'd had time to respond already.

_I'm used to telling the Doctor's story_, Martha began. _I spent a year travelling and telling it. But that's another story in and of itself, of course, and I'll save that tale for another time._

The letter went on, describing Martha's memories of her travels and of the Doctor. She mentioned various idiosyncrasies of the Doctor's, from his occasional tendency to start off in the wrong direction to the way he'd pat his ship affectionately and talk to her. She noted his stubbornness, his insistence that everyone be given a chance to change their ways, to make the right choice, even if he didn't think they'd take him up on his offer. She described a few of the times that she'd been jailed with him and the various ways he'd gotten them out of those messes. She mentioned how she'd ended up supporting him one time when they'd gotten stuck in the past and the lengths he'd gone to in order to get their transport back. She described his character as she'd perceived it, his manic brilliance in particular, and concluded by saying that he'd changed her life.

_I'll never regret travelling with him_, Martha wrote, _but I can't regret my decision to leave, either. I knew I'd never travel with him forever. I was studying to be a doctor, and I am one now, but I couldn't throw all that work away, or leave my family behind. Don't get me wrong; I loved every moment of it. Even when I was terrified, I loved it. Truth be told, I loved him, and a part of me still does. But nothing lasts forever, and I knew that, and I think it may have made my leaving easier. I'd travelled all over the world on my own by then, and I knew then I'd never forget a moment of it, but I'd learned a few things in that year that even travelling with the Doctor hadn't managed to teach me. I learned about us, Lucas. About humans, and human nature. For all the Doctor travels with us, he still hasn't learned all its lessons, either, and I think that's why he usually travels with someone: he needs someone else to point things out, or to stop him, or to remind him. He's brilliant, Lucas, but he's stronger when he has people to stand with him, and to stand behind him, and he knows that._

_Mickey says to tell you that when he was researching the Doctor with Rose Tyler (who later became the Doctor's companion, the one he'd travelled with before I met him), they happened across a website by Clive Finch. The Doctor was a different man back then, but if you can find it, it might be of interest. _Who is Doctor Who? _is the title, I believe. Mickey never did tell me the full story. He does suspect that something happened, though. He says the site never was updated by Clive again. He had aspirations of taking it over, once. I'm not sure if he ever did. If he did, he hasn't touched it for years, either. Not to my knowledge, at least, and he can't keep everything from me, though lord knows he tries._

_If you want some summer reading_, the letter continued, _I would suggest you try Verity Newman's book, _Journal of Impossible Things. _Her great-grandmother, Joan Redfern, met the Doctor when he wasn't himself. You'll know what I mean if you read it. It's another perspective of the Doctor and who he can be, as seen through Joan's eyes. It's an older book now, published in 2009, 2010, I don't quite remember now, but I'm sure you'll find it's a puzzle piece you never knew you were missing. _After a free line, there was an added, _Good luck_.

There was a hammering at his door, then a called, "Lucas?"

Lucas looked up as Krieg stuck his head in the room. "What is it?"

"I thought you might want a heads up. That sub we went after wasn't filled with emeralds."

Lucas thrust Martha's letter from his mind. That could wait; this couldn't. This was important, whatever it was. "What happened?"

"We've got maybe thirty, thirty-five kids on board," Krieg explained. "They were being smuggled out of the country, but they're political refugees, and now the captain's got to deal with all the red tape. He's not impressed that he was tricked into firing on children."

"I'll bet," Lucas said.

"There's one other thing," Krieg said. He was grinning now. "You'll never guess who was trying to rescue these kids."

Lucas didn't bother wasting his time trying. "Who?"

"Dr. Westphalen's daughter, Cynthia," Krieg replied. "Look, I've got to get back to launch bay, but we'll probably need you out there, too, so wrap up whatever you're doing."

"Yeah, sure. I'll be there in a minute," Lucas answered, moving to shut things down on his computer, but Krieg was already gone.

Though it was probably five, it felt like less than a minute later that Bridger came in and commandeered his room, and Lucas went to launch bay without much fuss. Though he would have preferred that Bridger wasn't so short with him, Lucas appreciated that the captain wasn't in the best of humour at the moment. Besides, he was right. They _did_ need him at launch bay; that was clear enough. Krieg had already left on another run, but Lucas could hardly imagine that there would be many more kids left to fetch. How big had that sub been, anyway? The poor kids must've been packed in there like sardines.

Now that they weren't, Crocker was having a bit of trouble keeping them under control, and he was quite happy when Lucas showed up. Lucas suggested they take them to the crew's mess when the one man, Malique, who was probably helping Dr. Westphalen's daughter get the kids to safety, said that they needed to eat. Before he could blink, Lucas found himself babysitting the kids with Crocker and Malique. It wasn't too bad, except for the fact that he couldn't speak Portuguese and therefore had little more control over the kids than Crocker did, but Lucas was still looking forward to the minute that he could escape. He could show Malique around once the rest of the kids were settled down, maybe visit Darwin at the moon pool again. It would do them all some good.

They could use some more of that now. Some of the kids looked like they hadn't had anything good happen to them in a long time. Even their flight from their own country had been interrupted, a flight that was a desperate escape that shouldn't need to have been made in the first place, were it not for the politics of the matter. Kristin's daughter may have helped them, led them through it, maybe even gotten them the means to escape if she was as resourceful as her mother, but Lucas could see how the kids looked up to Malique. He'd been an important part in it all, too.

Lucas recalled Cleo and the kids they'd rescued from the Landau Munitions Depot. She'd had her childhood cut short. She'd had to grow up and take care of the rest of the kids. This was a similar situation, to a point. Malique, having probably lost his own childhood innocence before any of those kids had been born, had taken on a responsibility for them, like Cleo had for her brood, but the reasons were different. Cleo had been trying to give her family a childhood by taking on the role of the adult. These kids had already lost their childhood, if the looks on their faces were anything to go by. Malique had been trying, with Cynthia, to give the kids their lives. Then, maybe once they had that, the kids could have the rest of their childhood back.

But in the meantime, a visit with Darwin would certainly bring a smile to his face, and he had no doubt that it would do the same for Malique. He looked like he needed to smile about something, so Lucas figured he'd give him the best opportunity he could.

* * *

><p>AN: All right, so technically I shouldn't've included Sarah Jane Smith, given the setting of this story, but Elisabeth Sladen did such a wonderful job, I couldn't help myself. Also, many thanks to everyone who's commented on this thus far.


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh, come on, Darwin," Lucas said, laughing. "You have to get the ball and push it back to me."

Darwin clicked his response, which became, "Get it yourself," over the speakers, and somehow still managed to sound like a smug retort.

Lucas smirked and did so, swimming over to grab the ball. "You know that's not the point of the game, right?"

"I daresay he has more fun seeing you fetch the ball than fetching it himself," Dr. Westphalen commented as she entered the room and made her way over to the moon pool.

"Yeah, he probably does," Lucas agreed, tossing the ball back to Darwin one last time before climbing out to meet Dr. Westphalen. "What's up, Doc?"

Dr. Westphalen raised her eyebrows, then smiled and shook her head before replying, "I was hoping you'd like to help me analyze some of the soil samples I've taken."

More likely, Lucas thought, she wanted his company as much as his help. He was fairly certain there wasn't a person on this ship who didn't notice how forlorn she'd seemed after she and Cynthia had finally bid their farewells again. Even he'd seen that, not just the captain or the science team or the bridge crew. He wasn't sure how often Dr. Westphalen talked to her daughter, but he'd bet their relationship was a sight stronger than his was with his father. The minute Cynthia was gone, her mother had gone back to missing her and worrying about her.

He didn't want to admit it, but he wished the same could have been said for his father.

Maybe Dr. Kristin Westphalen had known that, and maybe that's why she'd asked for his help, his company. Maybe she'd known that, if he was honest, he wanted some more attention from people. He hated being discounted because he was just a kid, someone who didn't really know anything, didn't know how the world worked.

"Sure," Lucas said. "I'll meet you as soon as I get changed."

The analysis of each of the soil samples, it turned out, was suspiciously straightforward, and as far as Lucas could tell, they didn't contain anything out of the ordinary. That strengthened his earlier suspicion regarding the good doctor, and he wondered if he should ask her about it. A glance at her face made him to decide to keep quiet this time; he knew her well enough to know that she was thinking about something when she had that look, and it was probably about what to say to him.

Maybe she was one of the ones who were leaving. The Doctor had told him they wouldn't all come back for _seaQuest_'s next tour. He'd known that, of course, but Dr. Westphalen seemed like such a staple to the crew…. Then again, so did Chief Crocker, and Lucas knew he was going to retire. He had a wife at home, didn't he? Well, he wasn't the only one of the crew with family. How many of them would be tempted to put their love of the sea aside for the sake of their loved ones?

"I think," Dr. Westphalen said suddenly, "that the Doctor knew."

"That he knew who's going to leave _seaQuest_?" Lucas asked, still caught up in his thoughts.

Dr. Westphalen laughed. "Heavens, Lucas, what have you been thinking about? No, I haven't the faintest if the Doctor knew that. I think he knew about Cynthia."

"About Cynthia?" Lucas echoed.

Dr. Westphalen nodded. "He told me she was resilient, you know, and that she'd be all right. And she was, even though she very nearly wasn't. I think the Doctor knew what was going to happen. He was trying to comfort me before I knew I would have reason to worry." She looked at Lucas for a moment, then said, "Why did you think he knew who was going to leave? I daresay there's hardly a soul on this ship who's figured that out. I certainly haven't."

She was considering it, then. She was considering leaving. Not like him; he _knew_ that he'd be back, if there was any possible way he could be. As the Doctor had said, he belonged. He was part of the crew, even if it was only unofficial. Dr. Westphalen's request for his help simply reaffirmed that.

"He said _seaQuest_'ll be finished her first tour soon," Lucas said, recounting the Doctor's words, "and he said parting will be hard for everyone because some people aren't going to come back."

"It doesn't mean someone's abandoning you if they don't sign on for _seaQuest_'s next tour, Lucas," Dr. Westphalen reminded him gently. "It just means that they're following a different path than you are. There's no reason you can't keep in touch with your friends."

No, there wasn't, but a part of him was wondering if he'd manage it anyway. If he'd had any doubt that it was easy to drift apart from people once you didn't see them anymore, to let friendships crumble instead of maintaining or building upon them, his research into the Doctor's past certainly made that clear. It sounded like most of the Doctor's friends hadn't heard from him in years.

He'd even tried getting in contact with Donna Noble, the one Sarah Jane had told him he shouldn't, thinking that that was perhaps the reason why he'd been warned against trying. He'd done his research and figured that one Donna Temple-Noble was the one he wanted, so he'd sent her a brief message asking what she knew about the Doctor. The reply had told him that he'd clearly picked the wrong person, since he could tell from the tone that the writer had thought he'd been having her on.

_I bet Nerys put you up to this, didn't she?_ Donna had written. _She's always trying to catch me out. Look, Lucas, whoever you are, I don't know what you're on about, but you can tell Nerys I'm not going to fall for it, got that? Just because I found a gentleman in Shaun and she's still searching for herself, well, that's her own problem. We're doing quite well for ourselves, no thanks to her. If she wants to know about some doctor bloke then she can very well go ask people for herself._ _If she's asking me, I know she's got something planned, and I won't fall for it, you hear me?_

The letter had continued for a while longer, ranting about this and that, and Lucas was rather thankful he hadn't found a number and tried to call her. As it was, he'd just sent off a hurried apology, saying something about being mistaken, and leaving it at that.

"I know," Lucas said, finally responding to Dr. Westphalen's comment, "but I'll miss them all the same."

"That's part of life," Dr. Westphalen pointed out. "You can't keep everyone you love close to you, and when they leave, you miss them." She put an arm around Lucas before adding, "Even if you can't get up the courage to always tell them that. Come on. Why don't you tell me how your research is going? Nathan told me you were making quite a bit of progress, but I wouldn't mind hearing it from you."

"I took a wrong turn recently," Lucas admitted. "I contacted someone who had no idea what I was talking about."

Dr. Westphalen laughed. "I can imagine the response you got to that!"

Lucas smirked. "Yeah, she thought someone was trying to pull a practical joke on her." He shrugged off Dr. Westphalen's arm in the guise of picking up the samples they'd been testing. "Where do you want these?"

"Leave them," Dr. Westphalen said. "I'll clean up later. You know, Lucas, I wouldn't mind having a look at your work myself. The captain's told me that you've been doing quite well, and Lieutenant Krieg figures you've gotten further than anyone else on _seaQuest_ would have. And after what I worked out about Cynthia, I have to admit that I'm quite curious. Would you mind showing me what you've found?"

"No, of course not," Lucas said. "I've got everything in my room."

It didn't take long to get everything together, and Dr. Westphalen was soon reading through the various responses Lucas had gotten, including the transcript of his call with Luke and Sarah Jane Smith, which he'd gotten from the data archives of his computer. When something beeped, she looked up at him. It didn't have the familiar set of tones that signalled an incoming vid call, but Lucas knew she was still familiar enough with the sounds made by various pieces of technology and their associated meanings. "New message?" she asked.

"Chances are," Lucas agreed. Reaching for the mouse, Lucas checked his incoming messages.

* * *

><p>"Dad," Sylvia Noble said, "enough of that. You should rest."<p>

Wilfred Mott turned from the window to look at his daughter. "You're always telling me that," he complained.

"Because it's true," Sylvia insisted. "I don't get a wink of sleep with you around. I should have put you in a home years ago."

"Oh, listen to her go on," Wilf said, waving a hand. "I'm sharp as a tack, and don't you forget it."

Sylvia sighed. It was true; her father _was_ as sharp as he'd ever been. He hardly looked his age now, though at least she'd finally gotten him to use a cane to keep his feet. But she worried about him, and she'd never stop worrying about him as long as they both walked this earth. She loved him too much.

But she also loved her daughter, and she lost enough sleep worrying about her, too, and that worry would never stop, either, not as long as she lived. Her daughter, who'd done more than she'd ever know. Her daughter, who'd thought she wasn't important and yet was the most important person in the universe.

Her daughter, who was happily married, finally, after her second go.

Her daughter, who had forgotten _why_ she was so special, and could never remember.

Her Donna, her baby girl, who was so like her father that it hurt to think about it, because even if she didn't worry about him, she missed him, and always would.

"She's fine, Dad," Sylvia said. "We finally convinced her and Shaun to go out to the garden. I don't want you to interrupt them before the planting's done."

"She only went because I asked," Wilf insisted. "She loves me too much to deny me."

"Yeah, and she'd think I was ill if we didn't have a good quarrel now and then," Sylvia said. She pointed to the kitchen table. "Sit. I've got the kettle on. Tea'll be ready in a minute."

Donna had never told Sylvia about her travels, not plainly. The most she'd heard from her daughter were half truths and partial tales. Donna had confided in her dear grandfather, not her own mother. It hadn't been until the Earth had moved and been returned, until Donna herself had forgotten, that Sylvia had really learned what her daughter had been up to.

She'd had to ask her father what Donna had told him, and she'd gotten the story in pieces, one at a time, when Donna had been out of the house. It had nearly taken until Donna's wedding day to complete the story of her travels with the man she knew only as the Doctor, the man who was the reason Donna had missed her first wedding day. Didn't matter now. Sylvia liked Shaun more than a sight better than she had Lance. Lance had never struck her as entirely trustworthy, not like Shaun. Shaun really did love her daughter, and that's what was important to Sylvia.

But since Donna had been complaining about Nerys's prank, the one Nerys herself denied, Sylvia had been inclined to look into things and ignore her daughter's privacy. Shaun had understood; he'd been trying to smooth things out between those two girls, and he kept insisting he'd never understand why Donna had had Nerys as a bridesmaid for their wedding. Donna had said she'd never intended him to understand. Putting Nerys in peach, she'd insisted, was the best way to get back at her for all the things she'd done over the years, and she'd always have the wedding pictures to prove it.

When Sylvia had asked Shaun to let her into Donna's email so that she could _see_ this so-called prank message Nerys had arranged, she hadn't thought she'd find what she did.

She didn't know who had sent the message. She'd never heard of Lucas Wolenczak. But she knew all too much about the man who called himself the Doctor.

Shaun had asked if she could make anything of it. Sylvia had rolled her eyes in response. Nerys and Donna, she'd said, would never stop pranking each other, not even when they were both old and grey. They'd keep in touch just to be able to do that. They were friendly enemies if she'd ever seen any, the way those two joked around.

She'd told Dad about the message, and he'd insisted they invite Donna over here under one pretence or another so that he could keep an eye on her. Just in case. That's why Sylvia had gone on about the state of the garden to Donna, who had returned her grumbling in kind. It had taken Wilf to plead with his granddaughter that he was old and couldn't get around as well as he used to, but how he'd love to see her out in the garden again because she'd loved it so as a little girl when they'd planted flowers together.

"You should tell him, you know," Wilf said. "He should know."

Sylvia, who had been getting the cups, turned back from the cupboard. "Tell who what, Dad? Shaun? We can't. We agreed not to. It's too risky."

"Not him. This Lucas bloke. The one who was asking after the Doctor. He got Donna's name, he did, and he got in touch with her. That's worth something. Tell him he didn't get the wrong person. Just tell him…. Tell him what happened. Tell him why he can't contact her again."

"I doubt he'll try again after the reply Donna sent him," Sylvia said, plunking a cup down in front of her father. She glanced out at the window at her daughter and her son-in-law. "It's best we leave it."

"I'll tell him if you don't," Wilf said stubbornly. "You don't think I was curious when I first saw Donna waving at me from that little blue box up in the sky? All he's trying to do is search for answers."

"We don't have any," Sylvia said.

"At least tell him that," Wilf insisted. "Tell him about Donna. You're as proud of your little girl as I am of mine, aren't you?"

"Oh, Dad," Sylvia said, "of course I am, but I don't think—"

"Mum," Donna interrupted, sticking her head in the kitchen door, "have you got any more of that stuff?"

"What stuff?" Sylvia asked, unable to keep the trace of annoyance from her voice. "I can't answer you if I don't know what you're after."

"You know what I mean," Donna said, exasperated. "That stuff that you mix in with the soil. For moisture or whatever."

"Peat moss," Wilf offered.

Donna smiled at him. "Yeah, that's it, Gramps. Peat moss."

"It's in the back of the shed, and mind you don't use it all," Sylvia cautioned. "We weren't all lucky enough to win the lottery."

Donna laughed. "I still can't get over the luck of that," she said. "Triple rollover! And here I thought it was a cheap wedding gift. Turned out to be the best thing that could've happened to the two of us. We'd've never been able to afford a place otherwise."

"Yeah, well, it's all in the past," Sylvia said, "and you still need to make every penny count, or I didn't manage to teach you a thing." She nodded in the direction of the garden, adding, "You two finish up out there and come in for tea before it goes cold, and then we'll have a proper visit."

Donna made a face, so Wilf chipped in, "Take your time, sweetheart. We'll keep it warm for you two."

"Thanks, Gramps," Donna said, smiling at him again. "We'll make sure this garden is as nice as the last one you and I planted together, all right?" Still smiling, she turned away and was gone again.

Sylvia closed the door behind her before looking back at Wilf. "You see, then? She's no worse for the wear."

"She's still my Donna," Wilf agreed, "but I still think you should write that Lucas Wolenczak and tell him the truth about her."

Sylvia glanced out the window again, then back at her father. She knew that expression well enough; it had kept her in line when she was a child and she'd balked at her mother's decisions or orders. He wasn't going to back down, and she knew he'd pester her until she gave in.

"Fine," Sylvia said, "but I'm going to be quick about it. Mind the two of them, and give me a shout if they finish before I come back."

"Will do, ma'am," Wilf said, giving her a mock salute as she left the room.

* * *

><p>"I'd say you had the right person after all," Dr. Westphalen commented, reading the message over Lucas's shoulder.<p>

Lucas sat in his chair, staring at the message. It wasn't very long; a few paragraphs, nothing more. It was from Sylvia Noble, whom he quickly deduced was Donna's mother, and she was asking him not to contact her daughter about the Doctor. If he had to ask someone, he could very well ask her.

_I still can't say I know what to think about that man after the state he left Donna in_, Sylvia concluded after explaining how the Doctor had wiped Donna's memories of him and their travels together, _but I have to be thankful to him all the same. Donna's different now. Even I noticed that, and it's not just a newfound understanding of electronics. But she's still my daughter, and I love her, and the Doctor helped ensure that she and Shaun have a good life. I'm glad of that._

"She loves her daughter very much," Dr. Westphalen said, "though I daresay she's not the sort of person who usually comes out and says it. A bit like your father in that respect, I'd say. Too proud of you to say it so much that it goes to your head."

Lucas was deaf to Dr. Westphalen's compliment. "I could have killed her," he said dumbly. "If she'd remembered, I would've killed her."

"You don't know that," Dr. Westphalen reminded him. "And it didn't happen. Don't fret about what could have been, Lucas. Focus on what is."

"I should've paid attention to Sarah Jane's note," Lucas insisted. "I should've known there was a good reason for it."

"Perhaps you should have," Dr. Westphalen allowed, "and your best route would have been to ask Sarah Jane herself rather than make assumptions or ignore the information you had at hand, but all is still well. You're young yet, Lucas. You're going to make plenty more mistakes than this."

"But I could have _killed _her," Lucas repeated.

"But you didn't," Dr. Westphalen said again. "The lesson, Lucas, is to be careful what you ask and who you ask, not to stop asking." She smiled, adding, "Where would I be if I stopped asking questions?"

"Yeah, but your curiosity hasn't nearly killed anyone," Lucas muttered.

"No," Dr. Westphalen agreed, "but I very nearly used the knowledge I gained from the answers I received to my questions to kill someone."

She meant Dr. Zellar, Lucas realized. "But you didn't," Lucas said softly.

"No, I didn't, but I truly thought I might." She sighed. "I was angry, Lucas, and I wanted to avenge my brother, James. He was one of the many innocent men Dr. Rubin Zellar slaughtered with his biochemical cocktails." She swallowed, then added, "But I couldn't do it. I couldn't stoop to his level."

"You're better than that," Lucas said.

"Am I?" Dr. Westphalen wondered. "It would have been so easy. Just one more ingredient, that's all I would have needed."

"But you didn't add it."

"I didn't want to become him," Dr. Westphalen said. "But it was a choice, Lucas, that was more difficult to make than you'd think." She pointed at the message which was still displayed on the computer screen. "We all face difficult choices, even if we don't realize how much weight our decisions hold at the time. Look at Sylvia Noble, who worries about her daughter but must hide the truth from her every day. Look at the Doctor, who had to curse her daughter to such a fate, a state of ignorance that daren't be lifted. Choose your path carefully, Lucas."

"Yeah, I get it," Lucas said, and he did. "Ask questions, but think about what you're asking and who you're asking, and make sure you understand everything. Don't make rash decisions, right?"

"Precisely," Dr. Westphalen said. "Chances are that you'll regret it if you act in haste or before you have all the information you need."

Lucas looked over the information he'd compiled on the Doctor within the last few weeks. "How often do you get the feeling that all the information you can get isn't enough?"

Dr. Westphalen laughed. "That's the life of a scientist, Lucas." She got to her feet. "Come on, we'll do something to take your mind off of things. How are you at poker?"

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks to those who have reviewed; it's good to know you're enjoying this!


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor stood a bit back on the beach, shading his eyes and peering ahead at the water. An explosion tore up through the sea, a monstrous fireball that signalled both the utter destruction of one of the greatest vessels to ever sail in Earth's oceans and the salvation of so many lives, some of whom had not had even an inkling of the danger. Of course, it also meant that the last of the trapped temporal particles that had been caught in the guise of mere sand and distributed through the nooks and crannies of _seaQuest_ had finally been freed and would be dispersed by the currents. He had no doubt that the good people on board _seaQuest_ had done their very best to clean up all the sand that they'd been able to find, but he'd known they would miss some. The only reason he hadn't worried was because he'd known this would happen, too.

He couldn't name all the figures who were gathered on the beach, and the distance was too great for many of the ones he did suspect were down there to be distinguished anyway, but even from this distance, he could pinpoint the very second fear turned to joy when the launch broke the surface of the water. He was also close enough to sense the moment the mood changed again, the moment it was determined that the life raft did not contain everyone who had remained on the vessel as she dove to her death.

Despite himself, the Doctor grinned. He knew the ending to this, if nothing else. He knew it would turn out all right, even though, right now, it didn't look like it would. He knew Captain Nathan Bridger had made his great escape in spite of the odds.

That wasn't why he'd come, though. It wasn't even to ensure that history hadn't changed and that the sand particles had been distributed. He'd had to come because he'd realized that Lucas had taken his advice to heart and was getting a bit too close to certain doors that needed to remain closed.

As for the timing, well, he was usually either very good or very bad at that.

The Doctor pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket. It was a copy of a message Lucas had sent, one the Doctor had intercepted. He'd been too late, though. It didn't take much to read the letter and see that it had been a reply. At least that he could tell from the reply that the first message hadn't had any horrible effects; Donna had clearly remained ignorant of him. Thankfully.

Why did something that was good have to hurt so much? He knew he couldn't have her remembering, not ever. Yes, he'd prepared for the worst, planted a sort of emergency shut off switch in her mind, but he had a terrible feeling that he'd never have the stroke of brilliance he'd need to be clever enough to work around the effects of the Metacrisis and allow Donna to remember him and their travels without ill effect. He couldn't think of how it would be possible. A Time Lord consciousness in a human mind….

The Doctor shook himself. He couldn't do any more for Donna now than what he was already doing: making sure she remained safe. He needed to check in on Lucas and make sure he didn't try to contact her again, for whatever reason. He wasn't even sure how he'd found her in the first place.

Lucas, however, was brilliant. The Doctor realized he should have been expecting something like this to happen. He'd invited Lucas to try to uncover some of the traces he'd left behind, but, oh, sometimes he needed to make sure things stayed buried. Some things couldn't be touched. Donna Noble was one of them.

The Stinger erupted from the water and ploughed onto the sand, and it was a few seconds before anyone on the beach registered that. Lucas was the first one to start running, the Doctor figured, and he'd bet Kristin Westphalen was the second. A few moments later, Captain Bridger climbed out of the high speed, single seat submersible. He was probably shaken, but he'd be fine, even if his ship was destroyed. One of the first things he was going to do was plan to build another.

The Doctor still hung back, biding his time. Things had been happening very quickly for everyone, and he didn't really want to interfere while they got their bearings as the shock wore off and reality set in. He was just thankful they were all alive; it would have been hard to come here if he'd known some of the people he'd gotten to know in the little time he'd spent aboard _seaQuest_ had lost their lives. It would have been hard to admit that he couldn't, and really shouldn't, change things.

It was the knowledge that he had to get to them before the UEO did that finally drove the Doctor forward. The last thing he needed was to be caught chatting with the _seaQuest_ crew. Who knew the questions he'd get if he stuck around for too long? Who knew how much paperwork he'd have to fill out before he managed to escape? It didn't bear thinking about that dreadful possibility. He had far better ways to spend his time. Like now, for instance. Watching joyful reunions. That was worth more than _seaQuest_ herself had been.

Captain Bridger was the first one to notice him approaching and consequently the first to reach him, though Lucas wasn't far behind. The Doctor smiled at them both. "Beautiful weather we're having, isn't it?" he asked.

Bridger frowned suspiciously. "Did you know," he asked quietly, "what was going to happen today?"

The Doctor hesitated, then nodded.

"And you let it?" Lucas asked. "Why? You've stopped loads of other things. I read about it."

"There are some things," the Doctor answered carefully, "that are for the best. This had to happen, so it did."

"But _seaQuest_—"

"Can be rebuilt," the Doctor interrupted. He glanced up at Bridger. "Isn't that right?"

"Quite," Bridger agreed. "We're thankful our crew survived. That's what's important." He paused, then said, "I have the feeling you're not here just to give us that bit of encouragement."

The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, you're right about that. It's actually you, Lucas, that I needed to see. You've been doing your research."

"I was," Lucas said, "but it's gone now."

"What you accumulated, yes, I suppose it is, but the thing is, Lucas, I'm going to have to ask that you don't keep it up. Well, in terms of Donna, at least. Donna Noble. Donna. You…. Don't try contacting her again. You can't." Was it just his imagination, or did Lucas look distinctly paler?

"I don't plan to," Lucas said hollowly.

No, it wasn't his imagination. "I should've warned you," the Doctor said. "I'm sorry. I just didn't think. That's one connection that needs to remain buried."

"Yeah, I figured that out," Lucas said. "Don't worry, Doctor, I learned my lesson: don't make assumptions."

"Did you also learn the answers to some of your questions?" the Doctor asked. He really didn't know how much Lucas would have found, or who he would have found.

"Yeah," Lucas said, and then he added, "about two of them."

Oh.

Perhaps he hadn't found his search as fruitful as the Doctor had thought.

"I think he learned a bit more than that, Doctor," Bridger said, easily reading the look on the Doctor's face. He glanced at Lucas. "And didn't you make a friend or two along the way?"

"There are a few people I'll probably stay in touch with," Lucas allowed. "But most of them warned me that I probably wouldn't find much of anything else to answer my questions because you've never answered them in the first place."

"Well, there is that," the Doctor said, thinking he'd better change the subject awfully quickly before Lucas decided to start asking him those very questions. "Your father's here, isn't he?"

Lucas smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, he's here."

He's safe, the Doctor translated. He's alive. And probably making promises that the Doctor _really _hoped he'd have the decency to keep.

"I believe we'll all be put up in a hotel for the night," Bridger said, "if you'd care to join us, Doctor."

"Ooh, I can't say that's not tempting," the Doctor said. It was; he would have enjoyed having a good visit, even if it did mean he'd be answering a few questions before he could change the topic. "But I'd better not, really. I might be a tad too easy for the UEO to spot me if I do, and I can't say I fancy answering any of their questions." He blew out a breath. "I imagine they still have a couple, no matter what you told them."

"I'm sure they do," Bridger agreed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd better to check in on the rest of my crew."

The Doctor and Lucas watched him go, and then Lucas asked, "Would you have told us, any of us, if you knew we didn't all make it? If you knew the captain wasn't going to make it out or something?"

"That would have been changing things," the Doctor replied quietly.

"But I've read some of the old files," Lucas said. "You always change things."

"Not always," the Doctor corrected. "If I know how something's supposed to go, I have to let it, or do my best to make sure whatever it is happens if something else is trying to interfere."

"Even if you know it means someone's going to die and you could have stopped it?"

The Doctor sighed. "There are different circumstances," he said.

"Some people are more important than others, you mean."

The Doctor shook his head. "No."

"What is it, then?"

"It's complicated," the Doctor said softly. "Very, very complicated. Even I get it wrong sometimes. It's not as easy to read all the connections."

"But if any of us hadn't made it, you would have let us die?"

"That's oversimplifying things," the Doctor reminded him. "Each and every circumstance is different and has to be assessed as such. Sometimes a life has to be taken, and I can't change that. I've tried a few times, and believe me, it's not good. The person I was trying to save usually ends up choosing to make the sacrifice to restore things again."

"So what if things _aren't_ hinged on it? Can you save someone then?"

"More likely," the Doctor said, "but it really does all depend on the circumstances."

Lucas looked out at the crowd on the beach, the gathering of _seaQuest_'s crew. "So if I ask you to promise to look out for us, you won't."

"Lucas—"

"I know. You can't, because you don't know the circumstances."

"I'm not supposed to interfere with things," the Doctor said.

Lucas snorted. "You always interfere with things."

"Well, yes," the Doctor admitted, "I usually do, but I'm not supposed to."

Lucas was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "When you were showing me your ship and telling me about the fragment, you said that we might experience more strange things in the future, but we haven't."

The Doctor had a feeling he knew where this was leading, but he went along with it anyway. "Yes, I did, but you might recall that I also told you, as I told Captain Bridger, that your next few weeks would be exceedingly ordinary. And they were, weren't they?"

Lucas ignored that comment, instead continuing with, "So it's still coming, then. All those strange things you said we'd be more susceptible to."

"Technically," the Doctor allowed carefully.

"So what if it falls into your jurisdiction?" Lucas asked, turning to face the Doctor again. "If the trouble we get into is a result of aliens or some temporal disaster, will you help us? That's when you usually interfere, isn't it? Will you watch out for us then?"

"Lucas, I still haven't looked up what's in your future," the Doctor said. "I'm working off old memories, and I would think that you have a better idea of just how old some of those memories are now."

"That's not what I asked."

"I know, but—"

"I wanted to know," Lucas interrupted, "if you'd look out for my family. You said it yourself, Doctor. We're not just a crew; we're a family. I know we're going to be losing some people if there's ever another _seaQuest_, but I just don't want to think about losing them forever. Not because of something that started with that fragment."

"Lucas, I don't want to make a promise that I'm not sure I can keep."

"So look into things, then, and tell me if you can keep it."

"That's not what I mean," the Doctor said. "Even if the circumstances _did_ allow for it, it still doesn't mean that I can do anything."

"Then promise me you'll try."

"Lucas—"

"You'd try for any of your friends, wouldn't you? Any of the people who've come to feel like family to you?" Lucas asked. "Any of the people you've travelled with? You'd try to save them, to look after them, wouldn't you? You'd do your best. That's all I'm doing, except I can't do it myself, so I'm asking a favour from you."

He shouldn't commit to anything. He really shouldn't. Especially when he knew there was a fair chance that Lucas might want to redeem his favour; _seaQuest_, once she was rebuilt, would be taken through time at least once, especially judging by that future shift he'd noticed last time. And, well, he wasn't certain she was going to avoid any further alien contact, either. There was something in the back of his mind, something he couldn't quite remember but was certain he should, that made him think that _seaQuest_ might be drawn into something when things should have been left well enough alone, or at the very least dealt with differently. Except he couldn't remember what, or why, or any of that.

He really should have checked his history books before coming back.

He couldn't promise Lucas anything for certain, but then he hadn't demanded certainty, had he? He'd just wanted him to try to help, if needed, because he didn't want to lose the people he cared for as a result of something that wasn't their own battle.

Besides, Lucas did have a point. Nine times out of ten, he was interfering because of aliens or one temporal mess or another. And if _seaQuest_ ran into those things, it wouldn't be entirely her fault. Granted, it certainly wasn't his fault, either, but he still did feel responsible. He ought to have noticed if things were going stale, if certain moments were starting to decay. At the very least, he should have noticed a rough patch in the Vortex when he passed by this time. Mind you, the stabilizers kept going, so he could hardly be blamed for not noticing, could he?

Or maybe he was just looking for excuses.

"All right," the Doctor agreed quietly. "I promise I'll keep an eye on things, and interfere if I can, if it's necessary. But I'm not promising I'll succeed with anything, and I'm not promising that nothing else would ever go wrong, and I'm certainly not promising that if anything does go wrong, everything'll turn out just fine and dandy. There's usually some cost, in the end."

"I know," Lucas said. "I just wanted you to promise to try, because I know you will if you say you will."

And, the Doctor suspected, he didn't want to run the risk of losing anyone unnecessarily if he thought he could find a way to avoid it. The Doctor understood that. He'd skirted death often enough, and seen far too many people to its door. If he could help a few people delay their trip….

Only under the right circumstances, though. He'd tried to be quite clear about that, and he hoped that Lucas understood. He knew the consequences of trying to save a life that shouldn't be saved. He'd dealt with those consequences more than once, even if they were never quite the same twice. He was still reeling a bit from the recent repercussions, even though it wasn't nearly as recent now as it had been before. It was still recent enough.

No one had been there to stop him.

"Thanks," Lucas said, looking back at the crew—his family, even if they weren't a family by blood. "It means a lot to me."

The Doctor swallowed. He could hear the hope in Lucas's voice, the hope that because everything had been fine this time, that everything had worked out now, it always would. It was that wonderful sense of hope that meant he was still a child, however much he may deny it. The Doctor had his suspicions about _seaQuest_'s future, but he couldn't bring himself to rob Lucas of that hope, so he kept his mouth shut. He'd learn to temper that hope appropriately with the necessary preparations for the worst the future could bring if he stayed with Captain Bridger, and the Doctor knew he would. That much, he remembered.

No sense in dawdling. He wanted to. He really did. A moment of peace and quiet conversation, to relax and enjoy the company, the beach, the breeze, the lulling sounds of the waves, the smell of the sea, the salty taste in the air— But he had this urge to keep moving, to do as much as he could in however many days he had left, and it was getting harder and harder to avoid doing what he needed to do, to go anywhere but the Ood-Sphere.

"Take care of yourself, Lucas," the Doctor said, smiling. "And make the best of everything you've got. If you do, you'll realize just how brilliant each individual moment is and how lucky you are to have lived it."

"You're not even going to stay a little while?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No. Best be off. Still have things that need doing."

"You always do," Lucas observed. "Well, good luck. And, maybe…. Doctor, everyone I talked to that you travelled with…. None of them regret it, you know, no matter what happened. So maybe you should find someone else. For, you know, company or something."

"Yes," the Doctor agreed softly, remembering when Donna had stood in the snow and told him much the same, though the reason she had given him had been different. She'd been proven right, though, hadn't she? How he could have forgotten her words so quickly…. "I'll do that." Once the danger was past, once whatever was coming out the dark finally came, and probably, once he'd heard the four knocks that signalled the end.

The end, and the beginning.

Yes. Brand new beginning. Fresh start. He'd find someone to travel with him then, someone to keep him company, help him out, hold him to his words…stop him. Someone to show the universe to. Someone to rely upon, someone he'd grow to love as much as he'd loved any of the other people who had travelled with him in the past—his family, as much as Lucas's family was the _seaQuest _crew. What had Sarah Jane told him? He had the biggest family on Earth….

"Lucas!" The call came from the crowd on the beach, and one person broke off and started towards them. When he came closer, he said, "Lucas, why don't you join us?" The man, someone the Doctor didn't recognize, looked at him and added, "And you are?"

"The Doctor," the Doctor said, offering his hand.

The man shook it. "I'm Lucas's father, if you haven't guessed. I'm a doctor myself, of the sciences. Lawrence Wolenczak." He paused, then said, "If you'll forgive me, I don't remember seeing you here earlier. Are you part of the crew, Dr.—?""

The Doctor shook his head. "Just a friend," he answered, ignoring the man's implied question of his name. "You have a brilliant son, Dr. Wolenczak. I hope you appreciate that."

The man grinned and ruffled Lucas's hair. "I couldn't be prouder."

"Dad," Lucas said, in the warning tone of a child who felt he was too old to be publicly embarrassed like that.

Dr. Wolenczak laughed. "I just miss you."

"Then you could have made time for me," Lucas said in a rather bitter tone of voice. "At some point in the last few years, you could have made time for me. You didn't have to wait until we almost got killed."

"I think," the Doctor said quietly, taking in the looks on the faces of both Wolenczaks, "that you two still have a long conversation ahead of you." Evidently, the joy of the reunion and of being alive was tainted by years of silence, and that could only be mended by conversation. Sometimes it was too hard to just forget the past; previous actions had to be accounted for. The Doctor knew that quite well. He still had a few things in his past that he hadn't reconciled yet, either. Well, perhaps just a bit more than a few. Well….

Still. Time to be moving on. As the Wolenczaks began their conversation, with the elder making those promises the Doctor had thought he'd have been making earlier, the Doctor slipped away, heading back to the TARDIS. Lucas had turned up a few of the answers he'd so desperately wanted, without any harm to poor Donna through a triggered flash of memory, and now he had the relationship with his father to rebuild. The _seaQuest_ crew was safe. The destruction of _seaQuest_ meant that the last of the sand, the bits of crystallized time that had been trapped on the great vessel herself, were released and distributed. All was well.

And yet, the Doctor still entered the TARDIS with heavy hearts.

No matter. There were a million, billion things to do to distract him. A whole universe to explore, all across the ages. All alone. For as long as he could, until he could put off his trip to the frozen world of the Ood no longer.

But first, well…. First, he needed to brush up on a bit of history. Earth, twenty-first century, specifically the exploration of the oceans by one particular vessel and all that became of her. On and, more specifically, off the official records. Because he didn't like to make promises he couldn't keep, and he wasn't in the habit of breaking them, especially not when they were made to someone who trusted him.

"See if you can turn up anything unusual," the Doctor said to his ship after he'd keyed in the appropriate information. He patted her affectionately. "I'll be in the library. Let me know if you find anything."

The TARDIS hummed, a slightly different hum accompanying her usual comforting tone, likely as much because she knew quite well where he'd be as because she was sensitive to his mood and wanted to let him know she'd do her best. Because, unlike anyone else in the whole wide universe, she knew precisely what he'd gone through, and she always knew how he really felt. She was, after all, his dearest friend. His family. They were just two old relics from a world long ago destroyed in a bitter War, a world that was hardly more than a legend on some planets out there.

He might be lonely, but he'd been wrong to ever think that he'd be truly alone. He wouldn't. Not as long as he had her, and she him. The bond between a Time Lord and his TARDIS might be inexplicable to anyone else, but it was something they would always have, no matter what happened, so long as they both continued on. She'd always accepted him, no matter who he became, and she helped him through his disorientation after each change as best she could. If he'd ever spared the time to listen to her, it would likely have helped substantially in the past.

Still. She knew what he wanted, and, moreover, she knew what he needed, or where he needed to be, and the Doctor trusted her more than anyone else in the entire universe. And he knew that when she finally took it upon herself to deliver him to the Ood, he wouldn't balk anymore, because by then it would be at a point where he could delay the inevitable no longer.

The Doctor thought back to his promise to Lucas. Some things, he knew, couldn't be stopped, couldn't be changed. But others, oh, others could, if he could find just the right loophole. And, if he turned up anything noteworthy in his search of _seaQuest_'s history, he'd try. He'd try his very best, because he'd promised. And that's what really mattered.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, _c'est fini_, _mes amis_. Thanks to those who've read this little tale and especially to those who've reviewed it along the way, Questfan, darkin520, and hbruce. I quite appreciated it.


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